Something Else To Worry About
by Machiavella of Kingsport
Summary: A Joren/Kel romance fic, taking place at the end of "Lady Knight"--so if you haven't read that yet, then this is a huge spoiler. But please, do read, and definitely review!
1. Default Chapter

**_Something Else To Worry About_**

A Tamora Pierce Fanfiction

by Machiavella of Kingsport

Rating: PG-13 (For language, some violence)

Genre: Romance/Drama

WARNING—PLEASE READ: Before you even read the summary, you must be warned that some of the scenes in this fanfic have been taken from the latest Protector of the Small book, "Lady Knight". If you haven't read the book and you don't want anything to be given away to you, I recommend that you either skip these parts (I will have them enclosed in stars), or not read this story. But if you don't mind knowing what happens ahead of time, then by all means, do read…

Summary: Kel thought the Chamber of Ordeal was done with her once she defeated Blayce the Gallan; but instead, an old "friend" was resurrected—and it's Kel's duty to change him into a respectable noble! Joren/Kel romance. Please review!

Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters, nor any of Tamora Pierce's text, which is enclosed in stars.

Prologue: Say It Isn't So! 

            So he was dead—as was her mission. Blayce the Gallan would no longer murder children for the sake of his killing machines, and Kel didn't have the Chamber of Ordeal relying on her anymore. She took a deep breath and wiped the blood off of her glaive, turning her face away from the still-warm corpse of the Nothing Man. She should have been jumping for joy, but for the fact that her shoulder was a mess and she could have fallen asleep where she stood. She was tired, hurt…all she wanted right then was a hot bath and a bandage to replace the makeshift one that had already been soaked with blood. 

            **Using the glaive as a crutch, Kel turned. What she saw was not the door she had come through, but another, familiar entryway lined in bright blue light. She now looked at the door to the Chamber of Ordeal from the inside. The face sculpted in its keystone looked at her. Its eyes shone yellow, as they had during Kel's previous experiences with the thing.

            _Very tidy,_ its voice announced in her mind. _I said you would do it, and you have._

            Kel gripped her glaive until her fingers creaked inside her gloves. "Yes, it's done," she replied. "I 'fixed' it. I killed a swordless man and saw a lot of good people murdered. Now you have your balance, I have the little ones, and you and I are quits, understand? Find someone else to do what you can't."**

            The thing's answer both surprised and angered her. _No,_ it said simply. Kel was furious. After so much pain, fatigue, work, war, and bloodshed, the Chamber of Ordeal still had more for her to do?! Lacking the strength to shout, Kel said in her most menacing quiet voice, "How dare you toy with me like this! I have done what you showed me to do, I've gone through horrors just to fulfill this quest you gave me! I don't mind saving children—but I'm very _irritated_ when more work just gets dumped on me!"

            It was uncharacteristic of her to complain, but the injustice stung. The voice continued._ You are not finished protecting the small ones of this earth. Do you forget your duty as a knight? You must right what wrongs you can!_

            "And what more have I to do than help Tortall win the war against the Scanrans? What more do I have to do besides defend my country with my life?" Kel shut her eyes in pain, her shoulder pulsing at its deep wound.

            _I killed a person near three years ago for what he did to people such as you. But it was wrong for him to die. I made a bad choice, a rare thing for me to do. I have brought him back. He will try for his shield again, but you will help him to change himself. Do you know of whom I speak?_

Nearly fainting with the blood loss and fatigue, Kel shook her head—but not because she could not guess. She knew exactly who the Chamber was talking about. Joren of Stone Mountain. She shook her head—"_I cannot do what you ask of me this time!_" If she had been angry before, she was now irate. _"I refuse to help you! Like I said before, find someone else to do your dirty work! Don't you ever do anything for yourself? And besides, if killing Joren was a mistake, this is worse!" _Kel's hands slid weakly down the shaft of her glaive and she sank to her knees in desperation. How could anyone do this to her?

            The chamber spoke again, its voice cold. _You will be punished if you do not do what I ask. I will tell you now—the Scanrans have not lost power because their machines are useless and their mage is dead. In fact, they will gain power and wreak havoc upon your country, killing many valuable knights—especially the best ones. They will strike Tortall where it hurts. Tortall will need all the help it can get, and Joren, though you may not have noticed in your fervent hatred for him, he is an excellent fighter. All you need to do is change mind about a few things. The war will rest on his shoulders._

            Change his mind. About a few things. A FEW. The war will rest on his shoulders. The voice's words raced through Kel's mind in her tired stupor. I have no choice, do I, she thought. I will hate the Chamber forever, but I have a feeling I really might have to do this. Raising herself up a small bit, she met the face of the Chamber with a level eye. "If I was a God myself, I would destroy you for this. But it seems I have no choice but to do your bidding. But if I fail, what would you do to me?"

            _Nothing. Why should _I_? You would be punished by the fact that Tortall would be overrun with Scanran tribesman and its kingdom would fall. You would be punished by the Scanrans, who would rape and pillage and kill your people, leaving them to die. Any they choose to leave unslain would fall under the rule of slave-driving tyrants. You would be powerless to stop them on your own, without knights to command…But I know you will succeed. _

"But how could just Joren possibly stop the Scanrans?"

            _I have filled him with powers beyond your imagination, on top of his skill. He is a hero now, save for the fact that in his heart he is a terrorist. You must be the one to change that, and save your country._

"How convenient." Kel squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to stand. "Where is he?"

            _Right here._

            Kel's eyes snapped open. There he stood, in the doorway, leaning against it nonchalantly. He eyed her with contempt. "Good luck, tutor." Kel looked above him; the face of the Chamber of Ordeal was gone, as was its doorway.

            Sighing resignedly, Kel spoke to her long-time nemesis. "Hurry up. I have people waiting for me."


	2. Chapter 2

Something Else To Worry About

Machiavella of Kingsport

Chapter 2: Old Friends…

            The refugees and convicts from Haven were bewildered, to say the least, when Keladry of Mindelan walked out of Maggur's stronghold with a strange, beautiful man in tow. Some of them were awed; but as for the man himself, he looked upon them with utter contempt as they greeted their loyal commander and fussed over her wound. He stood tall, vague, and aloof, his perfectly combed horsetail of blonde hair stirring in the breeze, and his cold blue eyes reflecting the sky itself.

            As for Kel, she had long since collapsed with loss of blood and weariness. Nealan of Queenscove would have helped her as the refugees were doing, but his eyes were fixed in disbelief on the distant figure. How could it be? It wasn't possible, the man had died three years ago, was it some illusion that had only followed Kel out of the castle? But no, it couldn't be, for it spoke:

            "Well, well, if it isn't the Yamani Pigsticker's little clique, hmm?" Joren of Stone Mountain laughed, grinning without a single trace of friendliness. He folded his arms and looked upon Neal as a piece of rubbish and tossed his fair head. Neal was nearly speechless, and stuttered in confusion and rage.

            "Y-you, it's n-not _possible! _You're s-supposed to be_ dead!"_

            "Why, Queenscove, you look as though you'd seen a ghost! You and the rest of your ragtag squad." Joren looked out over the remaining faces; Domitan of Masbolle, Owen of Jesslaw, Dom's squad of the Own. Owen's mouth opened and shut, his eyes wide—he looked like a fish, except he was trying to find words to voice his disbelief.

            "W-well, _are_ you…?"

            "No, unfortunately. I could have stayed with the Black God, resting in my own little world _without_ you detestable swine and your hussy, but the gods were determined to have their fun. So here I am. Happy to see me?" Joren grinned another wolfish grin, spreading out his arms as though through the crowd of moving refugees he wanted to embrace his old foes.

            'Mithros, no, I am NOT!" Neal had found his nerve again. "Now you and my friends can chat a little more and catch up on what's been happening, but _I_ have to go see to my_ friend._" With that he ran up to where Kel was being borne away by the other healers. He bade them set her down, and from his pack he took out fresh bandages.

* * *

            Later, when Neal had finished helping out all of his many patients and everyone had set up tents for the night, Joren and he found themselves having a conversation. Not a civil one, albeit, but informative, at least for Neal. Kel slept on a pallet in the large healers tent, but she was ignored for the most part, although mentioned.

            "Why were you brought back here?"

            "I was needed by Tortall." Joren stifled a yawn, rolling his eyes up toward the ceiling of the tent, feigning boredom.

            "What kind of country needs a corrupt, sexist, conservative fool like you?" Neal spat weakly, shaking a little. He had spent himself out healing everyone that day.

            "Apparently one like yours."

            _He didn't say 'his',_ Neal thought, surprised. _He's snobbier than I thought when it comes to the government._ "But what's so special about you?" Neal muttered resentfully.

            "I have powers now."

            Neal laughed. How stupid did that sound? 'I have powers'. Whatever. "Like what?"

            Joren stared at him for a moment, seriously, and with concentration. Neal felt his energy return to him. The scrapes all over his body disappeared with the pain. He felt much cooler. Joren relaxed again, looking cockier than ever. "Like _that._ And besides, mine doesn't run out like yours when I get tired. I am a vessel for the Gods."

            Neal was infuriated. The nerve of him! _"A vessel for the Gods? _You? Oh, please!"

            Joren was silent.

            "And besides, wouldn't they choose someone a little more _compassionate?_"

            The beautiful blonde man laughed, with an almost jolly tone, as though there was a hilarious farce Neal had completely missed. "Why, that's what that little whore is for! Says the god from the Chamber of Ordeal, she is supposed to 'change my heart!' Don't you think she's absolutely suited for it? With all that muscle, I suppose she'd try to _beat_ some chivalry into me!"

            Neal boiled, irate. "HOW DARE YOU CALL KEL A WHORE!" With his strength, lent from Joren's power, he knocked over his chair in an attempt to stand up and his hands shot at Joren's throat. But before he could reach it, he was thrown backwards by an invisible force and he skidded on the ground. "Oh, damn you, you filthy creature!" He glanced at his patients; Kel stirred in her unconsciousness as though she had actually heard the two men fighting. He slowly got to his feet. "I am not going to risk disturbing my patients," Neal continued, his voice low and angry. "So I am going to ask you to leave only once. And if you do not, I will find someway to hurt you, even with your 'powers'." He pointed a shaking finger at the door, glaring at his nemesis.

            Joren grinned almost genially, tipped his head pertly at him, and ducked jauntily out of the tent. Heaving an exasperated sigh, Neal sank into a chair and fell into a much-needed slumber, but it was not peaceful, for now, on top of everything, he had more problems facing him.

* * *

            The next morning Neal and Joren kept their distance. Of course this was an easy task, for Joren kept his distance from everyone else as well. He rode a borrowed horse at the back of the line, keeping his face like a cold mask of disgust. A couple of the teenaged girls tried to flirt with him, despite his snotty attitude and impudent air—but to no avail. He either ignored them completely or insulted them. Hurt, they rejoined their place in the long caravan line back to Tortall.

            Neal saw it all and shook his head. It was all too bad the girls hadn't known Stone Mountain's personality beforehand. They might not have bothered then. Kel sat weakly on a horse next to Neal, able to support herself somehow. (Neal thought it not her strength, for she would still have been in much pain from the wound in her shoulder, but rather, he thought it her stubborn will. He had never known his friend to give up.) Kel concentrated on nothing, it seemed but her inner thoughts. Neal pondered what Joren had told him the night before, about Kel having the task of trying to change him. Perhaps this was the cause of Kel's blank silence. After all, her Yamani mask was on—it had to be something like that.

            How was she to go about making Joren a gentleman? Even Lord Wyldon had never succeeded, back when they had all been pages. Not even the judge, when Joren had gone to court to pay for the kidnapping of Kel's maid. And who was to say Kel wouldn't give up? It seemed too daunting a task for her, Neal thought, although he had to admit she was stubborn and determined, and able to control herself a lot better than he himself would have been able to. Even so, what could she do?

            She would never torture anyone, not even her enemies. She left that to people who made careers of it, or Gods for that matter. And furthermore, how influential could Kel be, when Joren was opposing people of her very type? Progressives, and female ones, at that? Would she ever make him listen. _ Kel, I hope it all goes for the best,_ Neal thought, shaking his head ruefully. _I would that the gods had found someone else to protect Tortall in a time like this! I wouldn't accept any amount of money to be in Kel's place right now._

            He glanced at her again, and she was still silent, staring ahead with her Yamani face on. Neal sensed that likely she was brooding. All he could feel for her was sympathy. But he tried to think of other things, like how the rest of the people were faring, back at the fort—Wyldon, Raoul, all of the same. He hoped they hadn't been attacked while he and everyone else were here in Scanra. But Joren slipped back into his mind again. What would everyone think?

TO BE CONTINUED… (for sure)

A/N: Just letting y'all know about some things. In the reviews many of you left, you demanded "more, more, more"—there's only a slight problem there. You see, I start school on Wednesday, and let's just say the schedule, between classes, work, sports, and extra-curriculars, is RIGOROUS. Just to say the least. So I will likely not have much time to do writing of my own, unless it's for English class. So please, do understand that if I do not post for days, or even weeks on end, it is NOT because I have neglected the story. I do not intend to do that. I intend to actually finish this one, a novel idea for someone such as myself. (I rarely ever finish my work, except for "They Danced Anyway", another Tamora Pierce fic.) Well, anywhoot, thank you VERY much for the reviews, I always appreciate them, especially if you have suggestions! E-mail me or IM me, whatever pleases you…I'll be delighted to chat!—Nicoli D.


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